


Bowling for Fairy Tales

by keita52



Category: Indexing - Seanan McGuire
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Double Dating, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 18:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17048153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keita52/pseuds/keita52
Summary: A Shoemaker's Elf, a Snow White, a Wicked Stepsister and a Rose Red (averted) walk into a bowling alley...





	Bowling for Fairy Tales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oddegg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/gifts).



"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

If looks could kill, the hapless clerk standing in front of a row of bowling shoes would have spontaneously combusted, then reformed so that Sloane's death glare could kill him all over again. Sloane held up the pair of shoes that he'd given her. "I have to wear _these?_ "

"I've seen you in worse fashion crimes, Sloane," I said, tugging at her arm before she did any more damage to the poor bowling alley clerk. I was already regretting letting Gerry talk me into this. Yeah, our relationship needed work, what with how far and fast he'd run from me and our fairy-tale roots, and yeah, having Jeff and Sloane there made things a little more relaxed so we didn't feel any awkward pressure to "fix things", but I wasn't so sure about the whole _bowling_ thing. It was a perfectly normal activity for a double date, and I was all for more things in my life that qualified as "normal". 

Except that Jeff had blanched when he saw the rows of haphazardly arranged lined up shoes and I'd had to be the one to collect his pair, and it wasn't as though Sloane and Gerry were _actually_ dating, just kind of opportunistically making out in supply closets…

_In or out,_ I told myself firmly, shaking my head. _Corral Sloane and get started, or give up and go home_. And 'giving up' wasn't the sort of thing that came easily to me, so that left only one choice. 

Sloane gave another wordless snarl, but let me tow her back to where Gerry and Jeff were waiting. Jeff gave me a small smile as I approached. "Good to know we aren't banned less than ten minutes after setting foot in here," he said.

"Does that — no, wait, I don't want to know." Gerry already had his shoes on and took over shepherding Sloane to her seat as I sat next to Jeff. Sloane did have a point about the shoes, but hey, what bowling alley put any more effort into these things than was strictly necessary?

"Good man." Sloane's smile was actually something close to affectionate as she turned her attention to Gerry. "Relationships are defined by what partners don't tell each other."

"Thought it was supposed to be the opposite," Jeff murmured to me, and I suppressed a somewhat un-Henry-like giggle.

"If you're just going to act like a pair of dopey lovebirds, I'm going home," Sloane threatened.

"I hate lovebirds," I declared as I finished tying my bowling shoes on. "Right. How are we doing this? Boys vs. girls? Couple vs. couple? Siblings versus their significant others?"

Everyone exchanged a quick glance while I cursed myself for not making sure this was settled before we got to the bowling alley.

"If this is a double date," Jeff began — 

"We're not dating," Gerry and Sloane said almost in unison.

"Then it should be couple vs. couple." Jeff appeared not to have noticed the interruption.

"Sounds good to me," I said, grateful that someone had expressed a preference. "C'mon, Sloane. You and me first." 

I had one more moment of fear when Sloane picked up the bowling ball and ran through the motion of throwing it without actually letting go. Giving Sloane a large, heavy object and telling her it was okay to throw it _hard_ rarely ended well. She caught me watching her and grinned. "Don't worry, snow bitch. I'm not feeling homicidal tonight." 

"Well, that's a change," I commented as I turned my focus to my own lane. I wouldn't call myself a fantastic bowler, but I usually managed a decent score. My first attempt of the night proved to be the always difficult 7-10 split, which meant I'd have to get very lucky to get a spare. Grinding my teeth, I debated whether to try for the safe play of aiming for one, or the riskier play of trying to get both. A moment later I sent the ball rolling down the lane towards pin number 7. It was only the first throw of the night, after all. 

"Hah," Sloane said triumphantly. I turned to see the last of her pins fall down; she had managed a clean spare. "We're in the lead."

"We've got many frames to go," Jeff called as he rose, grabbing his bowling ball. "Don't count us out yet." 

I took the seat that Jeff had just vacated and watched as he bit his lip in concentration before hurling the ball down the lane. Like me, he got a split; unlike me, he'd left more than one pin up on each side. Sighing, Jeff waited for the ball to come back to him. I looked over and saw that Gerry hadn't fared much better. Sloane barked out a laugh, looking over to me and shaking her head. " _Men._ "

"Many frames to go," Jeff repeated stubbornly, taking careful aim at the pins on the left side as a safer bet. Gerry just grumbled something unintelligible as he retrieved his own ball.

The trend continued through the next batch of frames; Sloane and I continued to out-perform our partners, but the teams were never far apart in overall scoring. As fun as it might have been to win a decisive victory, I was glad that Sloane and I were on opposite sides to keep things more interesting. 

Somehow, I became the designated food procurer, making multiple trips up to the concessions counter to grab nachos, burgers, hotdogs, and a mishmash of condiments. I ignored the stares of people who found the whole "skin white as snow, lips red as cherries" thing unsettling. It was nothing new, and it was a small annoyance compared to the overall joy of having a fun night with my boyfriend, my brother, and … Sloane, who defied mundane things like labels.

It felt appropriate that everything came down to the final frame. Sloane managed a strike and added an obscene gesture in my direction as a flourish. I rolled my eyes and concentrated on my own throw. To my delight, I managed to match her strike, lifting my arms in triumph as the last pin fell over. I resisted the urge to return Sloane's obscene gesture; I had an example to set as team leader. I settled for sticking my tongue out at her. 

"Wimp," Sloane accused. I ignored her, watching for my ball to return. If I got another strike, clearing all the pins in a single throw, I would get one final throw — and if Sloane didn't get a strike, that could be a chance for me to edge ahead.

I took several deep breaths, doing my best to plot the trajectory of the ball, remembering the other strikes I'd gotten this game. A part of me insisted that it _was_ just a game, just a fun outing for the four of us, but dammit, I still wanted to win.

The ball arced out of my hand in exactly the way I'd envisioned it, tracing a path towards the center pin and making a satisfyingly loud sound as it impacted. I watched the pins fall — one, two, three — and let out an excited whoop as the momentum of ball and pins knocked all ten down.

Jeff seized me from behind and planted a passionate kiss on my lips, one that I returned with enthusiasm. For that one moment, we were the only two people in the universe, sharing a moment of triumph.

Then the moment was shattered by the many curse words coming from the next lane over. Sloane's death glare was back, directed first at the three pins still standing in her lane, then over at me. She gave an inarticulate snarl and stomped away; her bowling shoes failing to convey the sense of shaking malice that her preferred combat boots did.

Gerry shook his head as he stood, preparing for his final run while I waited for my ball to return once more. To some extent, my next throw didn't matter; it felt like just edging Sloane out there had been enough to call this evening a victory. I tried to put that aside as I judged where the ball would go, but apparently I hadn't eliminated all my overconfidence; I only knocked down seven of the ten pins.

Gerry finished up his frame with a spare as Jeff made his two throws, managing to get a total of eight pins. The four of us looked up at the scoreboard simultaneously, taking in the numbers.

"Hah! Ten points!" I crowed, as I saw the final scores. My strike had, in fact, been the decisive throw.

Sloane let out another exasperated huff and flipped me off before plunking down in her chair with what should have been enough force to break the flimsy plastic. Gerry flashed me a quick grin before sitting next to Sloane. "Well played, sis."

"It was all me," Jeff joked, slipping his hand into mine. Sloane made loud gagging noises despite not looking in our direction. I stifled another giggle and squeezed back.

"It was close," I said in a rather transparent attempt to mollify Sloane, and got another obscene gesture for my troubles. It was moments like this that made me wonder how much of Sloane's persistent temper was real, and how much was just to keep up appearances. If she'd truly been pissed, she probably would have walked out of the bowling alley, horrendous shoes and all. Instead, she seemed to be focusing on eliminating the last of the onion rings.

"I feel," I continued after a moment of considering my words, "it would only be considerate to offer you the chance to even the score. Say, same time next week?"

"Same teams?" Sloane asked without turning around.

I gave a nonchalant shrug. "That's kind of the definition of a rematch."

"Hah." From Sloane, that was almost as good as enthusiastic assent. "Your luck won't carry you through a second game, snow bitch."

"We'll just have to see next week."


End file.
